driftfleet | Mission 01: Action

Entry tags:

Mission 01: Action

Who: Steve Rogers (AU) + Open
Broadcast: N/A
Action: On the Marsiva; Around the SS Heron
When: February 26-28; March 2, post Shuffle

[ The Marsiva ]

[ This is not the Steve Rogers you are looking for. Unsettled, in completely unfamiliar surroundings, he spends much of his time lurking in whatever corner he can find, listening in on snippets of conversations that don't involve him simply to try and figure out what happened. Where he is. He wanders what limited space there is, exploring the confines of this strange vessel, making a mental map of where things are.

He does not voluntarily initiate conversation with anyone the first day, only taking care to note where the washroom is, where the recreational areas are, where he can find food. It's not until the second day, with the same faces and same smells and the same sense of solidity that Steve lets himself believe, just a little, that this might not be a HYDRA plot. That he hasn't been captured and dragged back to Siberia for reconditioning. That this isn't a complete mindscrew. Possibly. Hopefully.

Maybe it's shortly after that potential revelation that Steve starts looking for somewhere he can get a drink. ]

[ SS Heron ]

[ And then he wakes up on a strange ship for the second time. Because nobody seems to know what moderation means. Can't a guy be kidnapped in peace? Can't he have more than a few days to get aquainted with the idea of extraterrestrials and game shows and how GOD DAMN BIG space really is? No? Well, fine then.

The confetti burst outside his door is just adding insult to injury.

Pudding isn't the worst thing he's ever eaten, though. And he can't taste anything really off about it. (Like mind-altering or sleep-inducing drugs). That's a plus. So the next logical thing to do is explore this ship. You know, in case he has to break out of it in a hurry. For reasons involving intergalactic kidnapping. And other things. ]

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[Bucky has just only barely gotten used to seeing Steve around; sometimes he spots his friend from behind, and this little weird ping goes off in his brain, like he's seen a ghost, and he's still trying to get over it.

That's what happens now, only - only it's different. It's not Steve. But it is Steve, Bucky would know that blindfolded and upside-down, deaf and sideways. He stops dead in the common area, and if he's staring... well. Too bad.]

Steve?

[It might not be Steve. Maybe it's just someone with his face. Or it might not be his Steve. The other one isn't, and Bucky's learned by now that he's maybe the fifth Bucky Barnes to walk these halls.

It still feels like his heart has stopped, anyway.]

[ Of all the gin joints in all the galaxies --

That is a voice he does not (did not) expect to be confronted with. The set of his shoulders bows and pulls itself in toward the center of his being, just for a moment. It's probably enough body language to alert Bucky.

Steve pauses, because how can he not, and automatically starts to turn. He aborts the motions quickly, but not quickly enough, and catches the other man's face from the corner of his eye. It's both utterly familiar and utterly unknown, a mental sketch cut up and scattered across his brain.

No. No, no, no.

He turns back, deliberately relaxing the hunched angle of his shoulders, and starts walking again. There was somewhere he'd meant to go, meant to explore, but hell if he can consciously recall what it was now. What the fuck, universe? Why would anyone put that particular man in his path now? When he's tried so hard to cover his tracks, to not put himself in the position of potentially trying to kill Bucky Barnes again.

Come on. This isn't fair. ]

[Nothing is ever fair. Not being here, not the way Steve fell, not Bucky living through nearly seven decades in the Arctic, only to find out that maybe Steve had survived, too, after all. None of it.

And especially not this.

For a split second, Bucky thinks he's wrong. Maybe it's not Steve. He's just on edge, not used to seeing Steve at all around anymore, jumping at ghosts -

But then the guy's eyes catch his, just for a fraction of a heartbeat, and he starts walking, and - no. No, Bucky is right. It's Steve.

It's Steve.

Bucky should be smart about this. It's Steve, tensed and walking away from him. He should let him go. But he doesn't. He can't. His body practically leaps into motion, fingers reaching out to just graze Steve's sleeve.]

Steve. Wait, Steve -

[ He keeps moving. If anything, his pace quickens now that his own target has put eyes on him. He should have just kept walking, just shrugged it off and gone about his business, and then there wouldn't be some crazy figment of his past trying his damndest to catch Steve's attention.

But there's an echo in his brain that stutters when Bucky says his name. It's what initiated the hiccup on the causeway, it's what led to the face-off in HYDRA's helicarrier. It's what keeps him from simply darting away from the clumsy attempt at detaining. ]

Don't, [ He warns, shrugging off the sleeve-grab with far less force than he should. ] I'm not him.

[Bucky knows it's a bad idea, even as his hand's reaching out. But he does it anyway. It's an automatic reaction, like pulling your hand away from a hot stove.

But when Steve says Don't, when he shrugs it off and Bucky's fingers close around empty air, his brain seems to finally take over again and he stops, doesn't try to reach for Steve again. He plants his feet, but even if Steve's not looking at him, he can probably feel the agitation and unhappiness radiating off of him.] Aren't you?

[Fuck, that sounds more accusing than he meant. But,] You are Steve. [Quieter, less demanding.] You know who I am.

Don't you?

[Does he really fucking have this all wrong? Is this even his Steve?]

.. Yes, [ He says, slowly, in sync with slowing down his escape attempt again, if only because Bucky is showing he's smart enough not to grab again. Steve huffs out a sigh and turns around fully this second time, limbs hanging loosely at his side. Which should fool nobody - he's ready to defend himself at a second's notice. ] You're Captain America.

[ My mission is left unstated, but lingers in the space between them. He looks down at the floor, clearly sorting something in his head, then glances back up. ]

I'm not your friend. He died. Do you understand?

[ Steve Rogers died and a monster took his place. It's all cut and dry, Bucky. ]

You're Captain America, [Bucky says, immediately - he can't help it. It's practically automatic. After two years, he still feels like a sham, even though he's been Cap about as long, now, as Steve had been.

But this is Steve, and Bucky's gut clenches uncomfortably when he speaks again.] I understand you think that, [he says, quiet and low. Almost threatening, but it's not, really. It's just... sure. He's sure that is what Steve thinks. But it's still bullshit.]

You don't have to be my friend. But I can fucking be yours. It's a two-way street, Rogers.

[Well - looks like they're turning it into a one-way street, but like hell is Bucky walking away again. Like hell is he not going to be here for Steve Rogers. It's what he fucking does.]

You want me to pretend we've got nothing to do with each other, [he surmises, based on Steve's actions now, and what Steve - the other Steve, not his Steve, this is his Steve - has told him about the other Bucky Barnes.]

I want you to, [ Steve moves without warning, without finesse, and reaches out to grab Bucky's shoulders with each hand - propelling the other man about in a one-hundred-eighty-degree circle, to slam him up against the wall of the corridor this escape attempt has led him into. ] stay away from me so I don't hurt you again, Barnes.

I almost killed you.

[ He's not yelling, not impassioned, and that might be better or worse for the point he's trying to get across. In fact, Bucky might get the idea that this is why he's kept his distance. Well, that and coming to terms with what HYDRA has done to him. It takes a good long moment for Steve to release his grip and move back half a step, his voice still low, still even, but blue eyes sparking with banked emotion.

Once upon a time, someone might've called it getting his Irish up. ]

I don't fucking know who I am. I can't be anyone's friend. Don't you get that? I am not a good person. That man died. I'm. Not. Him.

Edited 2019-03-06 20:43 (UTC)

[Bucky's not actually expecting Steve to reach out and strike him - well, Steve doesn't strike him, but he does grab him and Bucky goes with the motion easily enough, normally faster on the uptake but he's kind of having A Moment right here. He only flinches a little when his back hits the wall, and he doesn't struggle, staying where Steve puts him, even though his instinct is to do the exact opposite.]

The ice almost killed me, and I ain't mad at it, [he says, as calmly and quietly as Steve. (And okay, that's not quite true - he was mad at it, for a long time. But if Steve's alive? Then he's not - not anymore.)

When Steve backs up, Bucky still stays where he is, back to the wall, but his eyes don't leave Steve's face. He sees that spark, he sees those emotions and that anger lurking just below the surface, and, You're wrong, pal, he thinks. You're in there. I can see it.

But what's arguing gonna do? It never worked on Steve before. It sure as shit won't, now.] Do you not want to be him? Or do you just not remember how?

[His voice is even, trying not to steer him in one direction or the other, or make it seem like he's expecting one answer over the other.]

The ice is a thing, not a-- [ Steve stops, abruptly, some tiny bit of his brain catching what would have been another argument altogether. One he doesn't need, one Bucky doesn't need. Nobody needs a fight about weapons and people and things, especially the same damn one he holds in his head every single day. ]

I can't be him. Just leave it at that.

[ Because that's not at all like producing a red cape and waving it in front of the logic bull that is James Barnes. Not at all. ]

[Something in Bucky's face says it's ready for that fight, if he's got to have it.

But it looks like he doesn't. He just goes quiet for a moment, watching Steve. Watching his face, his eyes, without flinching away. He wants to argue. He wants to say so many things - so many things he doesn't know if he has the strength to say, but doesn't know if he can dare to leave unsaid.

But this is Steve. It's Steve, but,] You don't have to be him. You don't have to be anyone you don't want to be. That's the fuckin' point of not being a prisoner.

[But it's still Steve, plain as day. Even if he can't see it. And maybe that's what hurts the most, but it's also what makes Bucky ask,] What do you go by?

[If he doesn't want to be called Steve... he'd better give Bucky something else to call him.]

[ There's very little to see, for the casual observer. Steve keeps his emotions close to the vest these days. For very, very good reasons, most of which involved being tortured if he showed anything at all.

But if someone knows him, like Bucky, then maybe his face isn't entirely closed off.

He looks tired, uncomfortable. Frustrated, maybe. His whole world was recently upended and now it's happened again. And his target is here, making all those little whispers in the back of his head louder. ]

Rogers, I guess. [ He's not sure about 'Steve'. It makes him ache, makes him feel unworthy. Makes him think he should be dead at the bottom of some ravine. He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck to dispell some of the tension. ] Are you sure you're not just a ...

[ Actually, no. Asking Bucky if he's an imaginary friend will open up too many cans of worms. Ones Steve isn't sure he can answer. ]

[Those aren't emotions, such as they are, that Bucky is entirely unused to seeing on Steve's face. They are things he wishes weren't there, but maybe a guy should just take what he can get. He's learned that, over the years, better than most other lessons.]

All right. Rogers, [he says, softly. Rogers it is. He can do that.] You can call me whatever you want. [Bucky's not stupid enough to insist on one thing or the other. If Steve wants to call him Cap over Bucky or Barnes... well, it'll hurt, but what about Steve doesn't, these days?

Still, he frowns at the question - well, partial question. He's honestly not sure what Steve was going to say.] I'm not anything but your friend, pal, [he says, quietly - and a little tired, uncomfortable, and frustrated, himself. But it's up to him to keep it together. To show Steve that things will be okay. It always has been.] If you need time for me to show you that... then I can give it to you.

[At least, a little. For now. He can't promise anything.] And if you got any questions... you can ask me. Anything. Anytime.

What do you want me to call you?

[ He doesn't bother to beat around the bush, this time. Bucky afforded him that courtesy, it's only right that he returns it. If the two of them are stuck together in this weird science fiction fantasy gone mad, then the least Steve can do is. Find out what he wants to be called.

Because, really, it's a pain in the ass to keep referring to the guy in military terms in his head. At least as the only option. ]

Bucky, [Bucky breathes - shit, it's out before he can even think about it, and it's not untrue. He wants Steve to call him Bucky, because it means something coming from Steve, but he immediately wonders if that's really the best thing for Steve. Because Bucky Barnes has never done anything for himself, when he could do something different for Steve.]

Or Barnes, [he adds, quickly.] Barnes is fine, too. If it makes you feel more comfortable.

[Just not Cap. Please, not Cap. Not from Steve.]

... Bucky.

[ That's a guy's Christian name. That's reserved for friends and family. His expression completely blanks out for a moment, because he can't parse this. Not after everything he's done, after trying to kill Captain Barnes' friends only a few months before winding up here. It just doesn't compute. Not even with Bucky himself insisting on it every few minutes.

In fact, he might look a little green around the gills. This largess of affection, because isn't that what insisting on your personal name means, Steve has no idea what to do with it. Like a live grenade. ]

I ... don't know, [ He finally rasps, voice much too thin and reedy sounding, at least to his own ears. ] Can -- can I think about it?

[There's something about the way Steve looks frankly kind of sick that makes Bucky feel sick.] Yeah - yeah, of course.

Think about it all you want. Okay?

[He looks... concerned. He looks worried, and maybe like he's still going to stay put, keep his distance. God, he doesn't want to, but how can he not, when he's making Steve go through this?]

I won't follow you, [he says - and then the irony of that phrase hits him like a punch to the gut, but it's too late to take it back now, and adding clarifiers seems stupid.

He does say,] But if you need me. If you want me. I think you can just call me. [On their not-phones, he means.]

[ His expression sharpens at the offer not to follow, like he's calling Bucky on that without literally doing so out loud. Because, really?

That's some chutzpah.

Steve diverts his attention to the communicator, relieved to have a chance to seize on a different topic, even though it's not really. Different. Bucky is still offering support despite everything. ]

Are you sure? [ It's hard to think of anything else to ask, and his stomach feels like it's trying to turn inside out. ]

[Yeah, yeah - he gets it. He knows how it sounds. And actually, if anything, Steve's distrusting look is reassuring.

Yeah, Bucky's aware that he's pretty messed up.]

I'm sure, [he says, as evenly as he can.] Anytime. I mean it. Middle of the night, or whatever.

[Because he wants to talk to Steve. He wants to be there for Steve, like - God, like he obviously wasn't for seventy years. Shit. How the fuck can he make up for that by just offering to be available for 2 a.m. text fests? Shit.]

I don't care if you don't want to be him. Or - whatever you want. I want to be here for you. Whatever that means, now.

[It's hard to say that - of course he cares if Steve doesn't want to be Steve anymore. But he's got to respect that - at least for now. He's got to give him time, and space, even though that's the fucking last thing he wants to do. He gets why it's so hard for the other Steve to do this; but he gets why he has to, no matter how it hurts.] You can always come to me. For whatever you need. I'm not gonna make you into something you don't want.

I'm not like them. I promise.

[ He's quiet again for a good couple of minutes, taking the time to absorb this - as much as he can, anyway - instead of just turning and walking off. Like his instincts keep telling him to. ]

And if I try to kill you?

[ Because that is a major concern. Killing anyone is a concern, to be perfectly honest, but only one of the people on board this ship had a termination order put out on him. (Well, two if you count Natasha.) That worries him, more than any other reason for contact. Not being able to stop himself from completing the mission.

Because maybe the hiccup was a one-time thing. Maybe he will get his hands on a gun and put two or three or four more bullets into the body of the other man. Whatever it takes for him to stop breathing. Aside from being found and taken by HYDRA again, that's the one thing that terrifies him the most. Finishing his mission. ]

I'll think about it. [ Is all Steve ends up saying, taking another step back. He can't promise anything in return. Not while knowing what kind of things he's capable of. ]

[You won't try to kill me, Bucky wants to say, but something stops him from saying it. Because when Steve says it... it sounds less like a threat, and more like something he's worried about. Like he knows he's going to, and he doesn't want to.

And that tracks, little thought he likes it, with what he knows. With what he saw, in the other Steve's head.]

I'm kinda hard to kill, [he points out - softly, casually.] But if you try... I'll try to stop you. And I won't blame you for trying.

[His fingers clench by his side when Steve takes a step back, like Bucky desperately wants to reach out for him again. He does. he doesn't want to have to stand here and watch Steve walk away after all this time, after everything that's happened, but he has to. He has to.] That's all I can ask, [he says quietly, though he doesn't like it very much.] Just - think about it. Ask me - or anyone else - if you have questions.

Yeah, me too.

[ Hard to kill seems to be a thing with them. He's not all that assured (read: not at all) by Bucky's promise to not hold it against him if something goes wrong, but he also wonders if that even matters. When it comes down to the wire -- not if, but when -- then the two of them will see how right Bucky thinks he is. ]

Okay.

[ And that's that. He turns around and starts walking. Except, it's not quite the end of the conversation that Bucky is dreading. Steve removes the little comm device from a pocket and types in something. He doesn't look back. ]

No questions today. Will see about tomorrow, James Buchanan Barnes.

[Bucky doesn't really relax as he watches Steve go - if anything maybe he feels more tense, knowing Steve is here, nearby, in the same place, and yet walking away from him. It's a hard, bitter pill to swallow, but he's done a hell of a lot of things that have been hard, for the sake of Steve Rogers. He can try to just make this one more of them. And hope that Steve comes back -

His communicator pings, softly, and it takes him a second, admittedly, to pull himself together and dig it out of his pocket. But then he sees the message, and - and he can't help but almost start to relax now, finally. He can't help the way his lips twitch, because maybe he shouldn't be smiling over that little, but somehow, it feels like a lot. It feels like a whole lot, and he stares at the message for a long, long time, before he finally lets out a breath he might have even been holding that whole time, and saves the message before he slips the device back into his pocket, and manages to walk away from the spot.]

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Mission 01: Action

The Marsiva

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